


kiss me underneath the mistletoe (show me, baby, that you love me so)

by its_tortle



Series: stucky one shots [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Childhood Memories, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cookies, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Meddling Friends, Mistletoe, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Sort Of, Tumblr Prompt, a ficlet that got out of hand, everyone is happy and nothing hurts, happy advent!, tis the season babey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_tortle/pseuds/its_tortle
Summary: Bucky looks around the room with an ever widening smile, making no move to take off his coat or boots. He’s trailing snow onto the carpet, but Steve has never given less of a fuck.Because Bucky looks radiant. He looks more glowy than Steve thinks he’s seen him in months, with a Cheshire Cat grin and tinted cheeks and lights in his eyes. He spins on his axis once, twice, three, times. He laughs at the angel bearing a rough resemblance to himself.Steve allows himself to think this whole thing was a good idea. “You like it?”Bucky turns back to him with an incredulous joy. “You’re kidding, right? I love it. I don’t even know what to do with myself right now, I love it so much.”ORa ficlet that accidentially turned into a one shot based on the prompt "Is that mistletoe?" for the lovelyhannah!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, background Sam Wilson/Natasha Romanov
Series: stucky one shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932520
Comments: 16
Kudos: 140





	kiss me underneath the mistletoe (show me, baby, that you love me so)

**Author's Note:**

> original, rebloggable post [here](https://its-tortle.tumblr.com/post/636168952329994240/stucky-and-1-for-the-christmas-prompts)
> 
> happy 1st advent! 🎄
> 
> title from mistletoe by justin bieber

The oven beeps loudly, and Steve, elbow deep in dishwater in an attempt to unclog the sink, swears. He could have sworn he had more time before the cookies were done, but the obnoxiously shrill beep ringing through the kitchen proves otherwise.

Hastily, he abandons the clogged sink and goes to dry his hands and forearms with the already damp kitchen towel.

“You good?”, Wanda’s voice calls from the living room. The beeping must have been going on a moment too long.

Steve calls back that he’s just fine, thank you very much, and, hands dry, takes the cookies out of the oven.

Given his abysmal skills in the kitchen, Steve had almost assumed that they would be burnt or liquid or otherwise inedible, but they actually look fine. They’re a bit lumpier than Winnie’s were, but they smell delicious.

Steve puts them down on the counter, and then can’t help but close his eyes and take a deep inhale of the sweet, cinnamony warm scent.

It takes him right back.

It takes him right back to that small orange-lit apartment full of books and Christmas greenery and shrill little girls. George is sitting on that old battered armchair with little Judy on his knee, and Winnie is taking the cinnamon cookies out of the oven, ready to be decorated by all the kids -- Steve and Bucky included, even though they’re both technically adults. Bucky smiles at Steve from across the counter, cheeks red from the eggnog and his suspenders hanging loosely at his hips, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Becca is singing Jingle Bells.

Steve is torn out of the memory by Natasha’s appearance in the doorway. She shoots him a questioning look.

“It smells like ‘36,” he smiles.

She returns the smile. “I assume that means you succeeded.”

“Yeah, I think. I mean, I haven’t tasted them yet, but they should hopefully be fine.” He trails off.

And then he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth again, wondering if Bucky will like them, if he even  _ wants _ a traditional Christmas like the one in ‘36. They hadn’t been able to actually celebrate one since he shipped off in ‘41, and Steve just wants to give him a slice of the life they’re missing in their hectic whirlwind of a timeline.

So while Bucky had gone to Wakanda for the day for a routine arm check-up, Steve had assembled Nat, Sam, and Wanda to decorate their shared Brooklyn apartment and help him bake Winnie’s cookies. He wants Bucky to come home to the surprise of something pure and festive, something that reminds him of familiarity.

But then the surprise element of it may have been a bad idea, because Bucky might not want it. Maybe it will remind him of the life that was so brutally ripped from him and the number of memories he can’t get back. Maybe, Steve has just inadvertently robbed his best friend of another choice.

As if knowing exactly what he’s thinking -- which, she probably does --, Natasha reaches out to Steve. Her hand finds his bicep. 

“He’ll love it,” she assures him.

“Bucky doesn't like surprises,” Steve responds dumbly.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “But he loves Christmas, and he loves you.”

She’s right, and Steve relaxes minutely. 

And if Bucky hates it, he’ll take it all back down and throw the cookies out and Bucky will forgive him ten times over.

Steve doesn’t think he deserves him, all of his strength and his love and that look he levels at Steve when he thinks Steve isn’t looking, but he’ll sure as hell take what he can get. And he’ll try his best to be deserving of it, to give it all back to Bucky.

Sam appears in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Damn, Rogers,” he smirks. “You already stealing my girl?”   
  


Steve knows that if those words had come out of anyone else’s mouth ever, they would have been sucker-punched to next week, but Natasha just smiles and lets her hand drop from Steve’ arm. 

“I’d like to see him try.”

Sam laughs, and takes Nat under his arm as she approaches the doorway. He drops a kiss to her temple, and Steve’s heart soars. He’s so damn happy for them.

Nat says something quiet to her boyfriend, and Steve looks away from the intimate moment to busy himself with getting a serving plate for them out of the cabinet. He chooses the big red one, for the sake of festivity.

“What I actually came in here to say,” Sam announces to Steve, “is that we’re done decorating.”

Steve smiles, and lets himself be led back into the living area. He finds it decked to a near point of ridiculousness.

There’s plastic greens with colorful lights all around the tops of the walls, and paper stars hanging in the windows. The coffee table tablecloth is red and gold, and topped with more greenery and Christmas candles. There’s a festive throw blanket over the couch, and tinsel and tacky figurines on the shelves. Michael Bublé is playing from the speaker on the table.

And there’s a seven foot tree in the corner of the room, so laden with lights and baubles and tinsel that Steve can barely see the green. Someone has drawn a beard on the brown-haired angel that sits atop it.

Among the color and sparkle, Wanda and Clint give him proud grins.

Steve laughs in gleeful surprise. “You guys really don’t pull your punches, huh?”

“We’re the Avengers, dude,” Clint quips. “We can’t afford to pull punches.”

Steve is glad for it, and tells them as much.

Sam helps him unclog the sink a minute later, while Wanda lays the cookies out on the serving plate in a delicate spiral. Clint shrilly sings along to All I Want For Christmas Is You.

By the time he’s dragging out the last high note -- horribly, if one might add -- there’s a jingle of keys outside the door.

Everything’s ready, so there’s not logically a reason to panic, but Steve feels his anxiety spike anyway. Unrealistically horrible scenarios race through his mind, and he’s thankful for Wanda reaching out to ground him.

When the door swings open, Bucky doesn’t immediately notice the irregularity. He’s taking his earbuds out of his ears and taking off his scarf, but then he suddenly looks up.

There’s a minute moment of fear in his eyes, the one inevitably present at surprise for a man who has had a life like Bucky’s, but it soon dissipates.

Bucky looks around the room with an unreadable expression, before his gaze falls on Steve in his ridiculous Scandaniavian navy and red sweater.

Steve watches his best friend, the gorgeous flush on his cheeks and nose from the cold and the wisps of hair on his cheekbones that he wants to brush away, and tries to level his reaction.

And then Bucky grins, and Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Happy December, Buck.” 

Bucky’s grin widens as he steps further into the room. “You did this?”

Steve motions to the others. “I had help.”

“Holy shit.”

Bucky looks around the room with an ever widening smile, making no move to take off his coat or boots. He’s trailing snow onto the carpet, but Steve has never given less of a fuck.

Because Bucky looks radiant. He looks more glowy than Steve thinks he’s seen him in months, with a Cheshire Cat grin and tinted cheeks and lights in his eyes. He spins on his axis once, twice, three, times. He laughs at the angel bearing a rough resemblance to himself.

Steve allows himself to think this whole thing was a good idea. “You like it?”

Bucky turns back to him with an incredulous joy. “You’re kidding, right? I love it. I don’t even know what to do with myself right now, I love it so much.”

Steve let’s the grin he’s been cautiously holding back materialize on his face, and the violence of it makes his cheeks hurt pretty much immediately.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

Wanda, with an adorable flourish and teasingly chivalrous comment, takes Bucky’s coat off of his shoulders, and while Bucky toes off his boots, Sam starts complaining about all the trouble he went through and the little thanks he’s getting. 

Bucky flips him off, but he’s still grinning.

“ D’you want cookies?” Steve offers.

Bucky straightens from where he was placing his boots on the rack. “I don’t know, did you make them?”

He should have expected that answer, honestly. Steve shoots Bucky a look. “I did, but I think they’re edible.”

At that, Clint emerges from the kitchen. “They’re fucking delicious,” he says through a mouthful of what Steve can only assume is Winnie’s cinnamon cookies.

They all roll their eyes at his antics, though they know there’s no way to stop him from being his chaotic self, and they also not-so reluctantly love him for it. Nat swats him over the back of his head anyway -- Steve’s sure she only uses about 1/10 of her strength.

Apparently taking Clint’s word for it, Bucky does follow Steve past the decked hall into the kitchen and to where the cookies sit, still steaming, on the counter.

Upon entering the room, Bucky suddenly freezes. He gives Steve a look somewhere between surprise and disbelief, and Steve knows exactly what he’s asking.

“Becca wrote your Ma’s recipe down,” he explains uncertainly. “I probably didn’t do it justice, but I-”

Steve is cut off by Bucky flinging himself at him with a rare ferocity. He throws his arms -- one flesh, one metal -- around Steve's shoulders and buries his face in Steve’s neck and Steve is taken aback for only a second until he hugs back with equal vehemence.

It’s one of those rare beautiful hugs where neither of them are holding anything back and Steve is so in love he thinks he might burst. His eyes go a little foggy, and though he has no logical reason to, he knows Bucky’s are too. He nuzzles into Bucky’s gradually disintegrating bun and steps impossibly closer.

“Thank you,” Bucky mumbles into the crook of his shoulder. He does indeed sound a bit choked up. 

When they pull back after what was definitely not the appropriate length of a hug for two best friends, they just share a slightly watery smile and take a cookie each.

They toast them, making tacky clinking sounds with their mouths, because that’s what George always used to make them do. Bucky takes a small, savoring bite, and outright moans.

Steve files that sounds under things he shouldn’t think about, but definitely will later because  _ fuck _ , and takes a bite of his own. 

It really is delicious, and Steve thanks God that the one time he was blessed with competence in the kitchen was this occasion. 

Still with the cookie in his mouth, Bucky looks back at Steve. “I can't believe you did all this for me.”

Steve is overwhelmed by the love in those beautiful steel blue eyes, and tries to channel it all right back. “Of course.”

They take the plate of cookies back out of the kitchen to offer them to the others. Bucky makes Steve promise to make another batch with him before Christmas.

Sam steals the plate right out of Steve’s hands and they emerge back into the living room and helps himself before passing it on to the others.

Steve leans on side of the doorway, Bucky by his side, and watches as the others chat about trivial things and praise the baked goods. 

Looking at the decked out room and the obnoxious decorations and twinkling lights, at his living room filled with friends not currently worrying about their next fight, Steve thinks that he’s happy. 

And ain’t that something?

“Hey,” Nat says suddenly. “ _ Is that mistletoe? _ ”

She motions above where Steve and Bucky are standing in the doorway to the kitchen and when Steve looks up, he finds that the pair of them are indeed standing under a fresh twig of mistletoe.

He turns back to glare at Nat with something between anger and panic, but she does an amicable job of acting surprised herself. There’s an urging and knowing twinkle in her clever eyes.

And Steve? Steve is mad.

If throwing a surprise Christmas in their shared apartment without Bucky’s knowledge was toeing a line of lack of consent, this reaches a whole other level. After all the millions of choices that were so brutally ripped from Bucky, this won’t be one of them, it can’t.

Because Steve wants to kiss Bucky, of course he does -- he thinks he’s probably subconsciously wanted to since he was sixteen -- but it isn’t up to him, and it sure as hell isn’t up to a parasite of a plant. If Bucky does want to kiss him, which sometimes, in moments of vulnerability and love, Steve lets himself hope he does, it should be entirely up to him.

So, yeah. Steve won’t stand for it.

He shoots Natasha another angry frown and then turns to Bucky, softening his hard look. His best friend is looking up at him with an unscruitable expression.

“Buck,” Steve starts, “We don’t- You don’t have to do anything. It’s just a stupid plant.”

To his surprise, Bucky’s blank expression morphs to a measuring, and almost flirty one. And Steve would know that look anywhere, he’s seen it on Bucky’s face about a million and a half times growing up, but he’s never been on the receiving end of it.

At his widening eyes, Bucky smirks. “What? You don’t wanna kiss me, Stevie?”

Steve’s brain reels. “What? No, that’s- Of course I do, I just- I mean-”

Bucky cuts off his panicked rambling with a widening smile. “Then go for it.”

Steve shuts up, eyes wider than ever. He doesn’t think he’s breathing.

“You’re sure?”

And then Bucky is sporting a blinding grin and Steve’s face is in his hands and he presses his mouth to his.

Steve vaguely hears voices cheering to his right, but through the haze of his mind, nothing has ever mattered less.

Bucky’s lips are soft and wet and warm and he’s smiling through the kiss and stroking Steve’s cheek with his thumb.

It’s just a prolonged peck, really, and then Bucky is pulling away, eyelashes fluttering. He looks up at Steve with an almost nervous smile, suddenly anxious, and Steve won’t stand for it.

Wrapping one arm around Bucky’s waist and threading the other in his hair, he pulls him back in. 

Bucky sighs against him, and then he’s smiling into the kiss again and threading his fingers into Steve’s hair. He opens his mouth against Steve’s and then Steve is drowning. Drowning in Bucky and the taste of cinnamon sugar cookies and love.

If he thinks he was happy before, it’s nothing compared to this. 

The kiss goes on for definitely longer than is necessary for a mistletoe kiss, but if he’s being honest, Steve has completely forgotten about the mistletoe.

He’ll thank Nat later.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> please don't hesitate to leave me any feedback! i love hearing ur thoughts and feelings! <3
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](https://its-tortle.tumblr.com) for more of this and much else u didn't ask for


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